 I thought the noise of the possums and wallabies would quiet down as the winter went on and feed was easier to find. But they still seem to be lurking around in the suburban gardens when I take the dog out for a late-night walk.
Even on a dark night you can tell the difference. If it’s a possum, they wait till you’ve crossed to the other side of the road, then they start making bad-tempered coughing sounds at you. But if you go past somebody’s garden and you hear that characteristic boing-boing sound retreating into the darkness, it’ll be a wallaby. They first started moving into the suburbs last summer when the drought caused a shortage of feed. I knew that wallabies liked flowers -- a friend of a friend has special permission to keep a wallaby in his backyard and it loves a rose as a special treat. But I hadn’t expected them to move into the gardens in my sister’s street. One of her neighbours showed me the whitewashed front wall of his garden and you could plainly see the marks of the wallabies’ feet where they’d tried to scale the wall. He’s given up trying to grow anything in his backyard because they sneak down the hill at night and eat everything in sight. And yet my sister, who would love to have a few wallabies going through her paddock, never sees them on her side of the road. Either they don’t like crossing the road or they won’t go through the poultry and horses that populate the property. What will happen in the Spring? We’ll just have to wait and see.
 We want to study your brain. That's what the official looking letter from the Menzies Research Institute said. A study to contrast the brains of diabetics and non-diabetics.
OK, I thought, I'm willing to go along with it. An MRI scan, a blood test and a questionnaire. I could do that. Saturday afternoon I present at Calvary Hospital. I'm not certain how much I have to do before the scan, but it turns out to be not much. Since they're only interested in my head, I don't need to get undressed or even remove my belt. So long as I removed my watch, keys and coins it's fine. They slide me into a long tube and give me ear plugs. Half an hour can be a long time flat on your back listening to a blacksmith in the next room. They started off with a repeated bang-click-click, then after a few zing-zing sounds it settled into a steady clunk-clunk clunk-clunk. I had a panic button in case I became claustrophobic. There was a little window so I could see out, but since they'd taken my glasses that was just a blur. Thirty minutes isn't long usually, but I had no way of telling time so I tried to pace myself. I thought of some normal calming things for a while, then I sort of drifted off with the rhythmic pounding coming from all around me. The next thing I knew I heard a muffled voice and I began sliding out of the tube. The technician looked down at me and said something but I couldn't understand her. Then I remembered the ear-plugs. When I got my watch back, it was just half an hour. If you're in a similar situation, I suggest you do what I did and don't look up the MRI page on Wikipedia until afterwards. I know if I had researched it in advance I would have found it hard not to think about all those atoms bouncing around in my skull !
 When we pass the shortest day, the days begin to lengthen but the cold begins to strengthen. The truth of that old saying is certainly proved by this winter. Some of the mornings have been breath-takingly cold and chilly.
Doses of gingko biloba keep chilblains at bay, but the skin on my fingers is beginning to crack. My remedy for this is to apply a cream for dry skin before retiring and put on a pair of white cotton gloves.
This seemed a bit strange at first, but you get used to it. In fact it's an advantage, helping to keep your hands warm on these near-zero nights.
There has been snow on the mountain for about a month now. Every year this sparks a debate about the merits of the mountain road. Whenever it snows, lots of people want to drive up Mount Wellington to see it, but they can't get there because.... well, because the mountain road is covered in snow and ice.
It seems to me that this is something to do with the modern attitude that everything should be accessible and user-friendly. What good is it having snow on the mountaintop if you can't get to it? Some have written to the local paper expressing the opinion that we should simply tell people to walk to the summit, the way they would have done a century ago.
That idea would be unacceptable to many, and the debates weigh up the merits of improving the road, putting in a cable-car or building a light rail service.
I don't know. I enjoy seeing the massive bulk of the mountain looming through the clouds, speckled with white streaks. It's a part of life in Hobart and personally I don't think we need to make it into a 24/7 tourist trap.
 "Now into its tenth generation, it's the world's biggest selling badge, with 32 million owners to its credit in its 40 year history. And, somewhere in the world, in one of the 140 countries where it's sold, someone buys a Toyota Corolla every 23 seconds."
When I started looking around for a new car, I thought I'd end up with something cheap and boring. I am still a little surprised that I ended up with a flame-red Corolla with mag wheels. Hardly the sort of car most of my friends would expect me to turn up in. I saw Robin Johnson at the theatre the other night and I mentioned I was getting a new car. "I'm not surprised," he said drily. Cheek! When you've driven the same car for decades, it becomes almost part of you. You know without thinking how much pressure to apply to the controls or how close you can come to another car. Then you get a new car and suddenly everything is different! It's actually quite scary. The first few times you go out, you're concentrating fiercely. If you can avoid stalling when you start off from a red light, you're doing well. And going round a corner is enough to make you break out in a cold sweat. After a while it gets better, but I don't know how long it will take before I can just get in and drive off without consciously thinking about what to do.
 It was like an allegory. Those winds that blew in the bad weather felt like a reflection of the currents that seemed to be stirring up the stagnant pond that my life had become.
Remember those bio-rhythm tables we used to consult back in the 1970s? All the different areas of my life seemed to be moving to a crisis point simultaneously. The car had deteriorated till it can only drive on flat roads. My sister's dog died. Problems at the office made me consider my job might have a limited life span. I was chronically short of sleep and the cat keeps waking me up at dawn to feed him. My diabetes flared up, just as it had last winter. The house needed repairs but my bank account was sinking fast. I couldn't even change the light bulbs in my house as they burned out, due to my vertigo that kept me from climbing ladders. I was slowly being consigned to the dark. Symbolism anyone? Was I approaching some sort of turning point, I wondered. Since my mother died, maybe I'd just been marking time. Maybe I needed some sort of shock to galvanise me into action. Like they say, "Sometimes bad things happen because God needs to get your attention." Could be.
 What would you say counts as an "old car"? Some people who trade in theirs every two years may think that five years is old. Until about a decade ago, I was still driving a 1963 Toyota Tiara -- I only stopped using it because it began refusing to turn left.
Since then I've been driving a 1980 Toyota T-18 and it's been pretty reliable. But this year it's been developing a few problems and I've been meaning to get it looked at. This week I finally took it in. The mechanic phoned me up a couple of hours later and said "Well, it's not good news." He gave me a run-down of all the things that were wrong and said it would cost $1200 to fix... and that this was more than the car was worth in his opinion. So it looks like I won't be driving myself into the city again until I can find another car. I can get around the northern suburbs all right because it's mostly flat, but it can't handle the hills going in and out of Hobart. In fact that's why I was finally motivated to get the car checked -- driving uphill in peak-hour traffic in the city centre was a nightmare. Ideally I'd like to pick up something cheap and boring like a Toyota Corolla or a Honda Civic. My man at the garage said he gets them sometimes and he'll keep an eye out for me. But if you're coming to town and you want me to drive out and pick you up at the airport.... sorry, no can do.
This ABC report interested me because I can never work out how much it costs to fill up the car in other countries -- but this has all the prices spelled out in Australian dollars.
AM - Wednesday, 11 June , 2008 08:05:00 Reporter: David Mark TONY EASTLEY: Americans are complaining because their fuel has reached around one dollar a litre.
Australian motorists believe they're doing it tough at $1.50 a litre or thereabouts but petrol pain is acute in Europe where the prices are much higher. There, people have taken to the streets and highways in protest.
David Mark reports.
DAVID MARK: Around the world petrol prices are rising. Motorists and truck drivers on the street are on the street.
In Spain where the price of fuel is the equivalent of $AU 1.89 a litre, around 90,000 truck drivers have blocked the country's motorways with their lorries in protest.
VOX POP (translated): This is like a tug-of-war we mustn't give up at the beginning. This is the last bullet in our gun, if this doesn't work, we're lost.
DAVID MARK: Spanish petrol prices are in fact among Europe's cheapest. In Portugal where truck drivers are also protesting, fuel costs around $AU 2.40 per litre. It's about the same price in the UK and Italy.
The price in France and Germany is only marginally cheaper at around $AU 2.30 per litre.
Europe's most expensive countries for fuel are Norway at $AU 2.67 per litre and Turkey at $AU 2.68.
(Sound of people protesting)
The protests aren't confined to Europe. Motorists in many Asian companies are also up in arms about the petrol price hikes.
In Nepal, protesters are on the streets of Kathmandu after petrol rose 25 per cent. The price there is the Australian equivalent of a $1.58 per litre
Protesters are also on the street in Hong Kong where petrol costs around $1.99. It costs a $1.06 in Pakistan and in India it's a $1.24.
In South Korea, where the Government has offered to resign in part because of fuel prices, petrol costs $AU 1.96.
But while most motorists are doing paying ever more, in some countries fuel is virtually free. It costs just 12 cents per litre in Saudi Arabia and just five cents a litre in Venezuela.
Most motorists can only dream of paying so little for the fuel, but they can take some heart in a forecast by the International Energy Association which is predicting oil prices will fall over the next two years to below $US 100 a barrel.
Cold and dark these mornings as we get deeper into Autumn. My vision is not the best under dimly-lit conditions and one morning I found that I'd left my bedroom wearing not odd socks but odd shoes.
I thought my gait was a bit funny.
*
The monthly pub quiz run by the Irish Association was Monday night. Five of us formed a team under the usual name of The Amnesiacs but we failed to triumph this time round. We came second in our category (of course there were only three teams in that section!).
The categories this time were "Who am I?", Australian trivia, movies, music, books, "Yesterday's News" and a table quiz where we had to identify celebrities whose faces had been morphed onto other bodies (surprisingly difficult).
Sometimes you find that even things you thought you knew refuse to come to mind. Quick, what year did Roy Orbison die? [It was 1988.]
And at times the entire audience disagrees with the quizmaster. Only 16 countries in the Commonwealth? We all said 52. But what the question actually wanted to know was how many Commonwealth countries have the Queen as their Head of State. Like Elizabeth, confusion reigned.
We always have a meal while we're waiting for the quiz to start. Usually I have the Caesar salad, but this time on a whim I tried the Venison Sausage Pasta; not bad, but a bit spicy at times.
*
PETROL PATROL:
Fuel at my local station has reached 159.7 -- that's A$1.59 a litre. Forecast is it will only go higher. Sigh!
ON THE RADIO:
You'll invariably find me at home on Friday afternoons listening to the Community Radio station to hear Alan Rider's show Theatre Organ Showcase. Always lots of great old tunes played on the Wurlitzer or the Hammond organ. This week's selection was particularly enjoyable.
http://www.mediafire.com/?wxrcm3fzmix
ON THE TUBE:
Sally Lockhart Mysteries #1: The Ruby in the Smoke
Billie Piper stars as Sally Lockhart in this adaptation of award-winning author Philip Pullman's (His Dark Materials trilogy) The Ruby In The Smoke. That gave me pause - Pullman's reputation as an atheist is a bit off-putting.
In this story an orphaned teenager seeks the truth about her father's death in the dark and dangerous world of Victorian London.
If you nodded off and woke up after the opening credits, you might think you were in an episode of Charles Dickens' "Bleak House" that you'd somehow missed. The evocation of 19th century London is very well done and the cast fit into their parts well. Julie Walters in particular is so submerged in her role it's almost impossible to recognise her.
Some plot elements seem a little implausible - the freedom enjoyed by young women and black people doesn't ring quite true.
What's a bit startling is the fact this is based on a novel for children. There are several fatal stabbings, drug use, brutal beatings and the implied threat of under-age sex. Children's books have obviously changed since I was a boy.
*
This month's wine list:
Heritage Road Moonstone 2005 Semillon Chardonnay
Pleasant white from southeastern Australia with the apple-citrus of the semillon comlpemented by the peach-fig in the chardonnay. Goes down well with most meals.
Blue Tongue Sauvignon Blanc 2005
Nice drop that claims to blend passionfruit, gooseberry and kiwi fruit. I can't taste any of those but it's an agreeable white wine (even if it is named after a lizard!).
Yallum Ridge 2004 Verdelho semillon
Once again, a passable white from a vineyard I've never heard of before this.
Crittenden & Co 2007 Late Harvest Riesling
From Mulgrave Victoria comes this nice white with "hints of tropical fruits, citrus and lime".
Lennard's Crossing 2005 Chardonnay
This wine, that promises to be "full and soft on the palate" when served chilled with your favourite fish or meat, comes from Pokolbin in New South Wales. <HR>
*
Very tired recently. I've been so weary lately that I haven't updated this page for almost a month. Will do better next month...
 Anzac Day, my 58th birthday and the day that celebrates Australia's history at war.
It made for a thoughtful morning. Not only did I reflect on what I had and hadn't accomplished over the last twelve months, but it brought to mind thoughts of all the members of my family who'd served in the armed forces.
My cousin who went to Vietnam. My uncles who were in North Africa. Even my mother served in an anti-aircraft unit when Radar was a deep dark secret.
I took down from the shelf a battered little notebook that had been handed down to us from previous generations. It tells the story of my father's oldest brother, from the day he left home with his unit in 1915 till he sent it home from England a year later just before he left for France.
He never returned. In one of the many Australian graveyards in France, he lies to this day. We often think of him at this time of the year. My father's family mourned him for many years and among the bric-a-brac from the old family home are several framed memorials to the fighting men who were lost in a far country.
Rest in peace, 4385.
 Darkness. That's what I saw when I opened my eyes, but I couldn't go back to sleep. Today was Garage Sale Day in my street.
One of the women in the street had rounded up half a dozen households to participate in a joint Garage Sale (what they call a yard sale in some places). We split the cost of the advertising and benefited from being able to avoid the sunrise wolf-pack. If you've ever had a garage sale, you'll know that there's usually someone banging on your door at 5 a.m. wanting to get a preview of what you're selling. This way, we just announced that there would be a garage sale in my street commencing at 8 o'clock. Right on that time, everyone who was participating opened their doors and put out balloons on their front fence. That didn't stop a couple of cars driving up and down the street early looking for any signs of life. Dealers and bargain hunters hoping for a chance to get in early. I felt like a vampire who'd been dragged out of the crypt by Dr Van Helsing, but as the sun came up I gradually got it together. Originally I'd planned to spread everything out on the front lawn so that the passing trade could see everything, and I wouldn't have to depend on people wandering down my driveway. Then at dawn there was a shower of rain and I thought to myself "Oh no, I'll have to change my plans and put everything under cover in the carport." So I did, and of course that was the only rain all day! It made for a fairly long day. I took up my position at 8 o'clock and watched the clock slowly progress round to 1 p.m. People came and went. Families with kids. Old couples. Young adults. A few people who were obviously dealers. One man was as transparent as could be. He glanced at a cardboard box of comics and said off-handedly "Those are a bit modern" in a dismissive tone. "Depends on what you mean by modern," I said, well aware of what he was doing. "Bit of silverfish damage on a couple of them," he added. I shrugged and said nothing. "Will you take ten dollars for the lot?" he said finally and I nodded. It was so obvious what he was doing. He had seen a few comics in there that he thought he could sell at a profit, so he began by denigrating their rarity and quality before making an offer to buy the lot cheaply. I could see what he was up to, but that box of comics had been in my For Sale section for the last ten years so I took the ten dollars and let him do with them whatever he wanted. That was the biggest sale I made. There were a lot of browsers but few buyers. Several people asked if I had any old records or old furniture. I could have sold the bird cage by the back door a couple of times. By 12:45 the neighbours began wandering about making noises about packing up. The family on the other side were pleased that they'd finally been able to sell that three-piece suite that had been taking up room in their garage all year. "Now the kids can play table tennis again." I checked the takings. $19, less $5 for the newspaper advertising. A total of fourteen dollars for five hours sitting there browsing through old magazines while strangers rummaged through your cast-offs. Not a way I'd choose to make my living.
  How much stuff have you got? That's the question being asked by a new Australian television series titled simply Stuff.
Its creator Wendy Harmer says in the show's outline: Stuff examines – from the cradle to the grave – the abiding passion all of us have for stuff – the stuff we buy, the stuff we treasure, the stuff we desire and the stuff that’s most important to us.
“In making this series I wanted to present a view about consumption that was beyond basic academic theory. I wanted to present a human view of consumption.
I found myself increasingly dissatisfied with the many books, newspaper columns and documentaries that finger-wag about the way we consume. We consume, they say, because we’re “greedy”, “unthinking”, to “show off” to “have power over others.” We are told that consuming is a habit we have to quickly unlearn, as if, somehow, we had only recently learned it. In fact, we humans have been consuming forever. The desire to acquire goods is as much a part of our lives as is the desire to work. The message of this programme is to be mindful when you consume and above all, love your stuff. It is as unique as you are. Hopefully, this series will have people thinking about over-consumption, but in a gentle and humorous way. The only problem, perhaps, is that Wendy is not a neutral observer - she is a self-confessed "chucker" who is visibly restraining herself from telling the interviewees they should just throw out all that junk. This series is for those who get the horrors whenever they watch Collectors on Friday night! # I've been listening to some old radio serials recently and have been intrigued by one of the sponsors, a breakfast cereal that is "shot from guns." I didn't think I would get very far asking about it at my local supermarket, but it took me quite a while to bring up a straightforward explanation of what this meant (even with help from Mr Google). The best explanation was from a website where they were discussing breakfast cereals (!) and somebody spelled it out as follows: "The 'shot from guns' slogan refers to the normal method of making puffed wheat kernels: a metal cylinder is rapidly injected with hot compressed air, causing the wheat kernels to expand, and then opened to release the puffed kernels. A similar process is performed with other grains. When the cylinder is opened, it creates a loud noise; the cylinders are generally referred to as guns, since this works very much like a shotgun shell and the process is most efficient when performed with long and slender tubes that resemble large rifle barrels." So now we know. # New tablets mean a new leaflet about side-effects and all that. All about biguanides and metformin hydrochloride. The paragraph about low blood glucose is a bit concerning. If not treated promptly, the leaflet warns, this can lead to - loss of co-ordination
- slurred speech
- confusion
- fits or loss of consciousness.
They've certainly got my number -- most days I suffer from the first three anyway!
I didn't write this, but it will probably amuse any computer user.... The Shift Key FAQ - Version 0.001
by Alan Meiss, ameiss@indiana.edu
Unleash the Power of Shift!
Q. What happens if I press both shift keys?
A. Even bigger letters may show up on your screen. You should not use this feature, however, because these letters are also brighter, and may cause Screen Burn-In, which would be particularly embarrassing if you were typing something naughty at the time. You might consider obtaining the author's Shift Key Burn-In Protector program for only $139.95. Or you might not, it's your computer, but don't say I didn't warn you.
Q. My shift keys have little arrows on them. Does that mean the *real* shift keys are located above them, and these keys are just little signs to point them out?
A. Nope, they're the Real McCoy. The little arrows mean "up", as in "look up at the screen". Your keyboard is telling you to learn to touch type and quit staring at your fingers.
q. my religion prohibits the use of shift keys. how can i type capital letters and punctuation
A. Discuss alternatives to the shift key with your spiritual advisor. Perhaps your deity would not be angered by repeated use of the Caps Lock key, or maybe you can retain a consultant to depress the shift for you. You might also consider replacing punctuation marks that require the use of shift keys with lower case expressions; replace ? with "huh" and ! with "zowie".
Q> I PRESSED SHIFT AND IT"S STUCK DOWN NOW>
A. Do small children with a fondness for peanut butter use your keyboard frequently? If so, you may want to clean it off for more reliable operation. First, disconnect your keyboard by gripping each of its ends firmly and pulling as hard as you can. Next, immerse the keyboard in warm water and scrub thoroughly with your favorite lemon-scented detergent and lots of steel wool. Finally, you need to dry the keyboard. Either dry it to touch with a handheld blowdryer, or place it in the dryer for not less than 60 minutes. Be sure to clean the lint screen when you are finished.
Q. Why are there are no "shift" keys on my keyboard, but there are two keys labelled "hif"?
A. Again, you may want to consider cleaning your keyboard, and washing your hands more frequently for that matter.
Q. Are there shift keys on my Macintosh?
A. Yes, although instead of the notation "shift", the key may be labelled with an excited Mac face, something like :O . Press this key to use shift, and be thankful you're using a friendly Mac instead of a mean old PC with all them confusin' words 'n stuff on it.
Q. I'm sick of pushing the shift key every single time I want big letters. Is there any other way to do this?
A. This is the Modern Age of Convenience, and you may be able to activate the shift key merely with the power of your voice! Check to see whether your computer is equippped with speech-recognition equipment by saying the word "shift" very clearly and slowly into its speaker. Then watch the keyboard closely to see if the Shift key moves down. Note that you may have to repeat this action several times to "train" the computer to recognize your voice before the feature works reliably.
Q. There are two shift keys, which should I use?
A. Avoid unnecessary wear on either shift key by alternating between the two. Keep track of your usage of each key so that you press them in equal amounts. Your keyboard may be equipped with a small notepad; you should use this to make little tally marks in two columns for each time you shift. Remember, it's better to go to a little trouble than wind up with a broken shift key.
Q. Why are the shift keys bigger than the other keys?
A. They aren't. This is simply an optical illusion. Just as the moon appears much larger when it is close to the horizon, your shift keys look larger because of their proximity to other keys. To verify this, go out in a large field at night with your keyboard, place it in an upright position, and view it from a distance of 200 yards. Sure enough, the keys all look the same size!
Q. If I press the shift key at the wrong time, or too many times, will my computer explode?
A. No. Well, generally no. Not unless you are using a NEC laptop. Or vt100 terminal emulation. But even then, hardly ever. Really, don't worry about it. Forget I mentioned it. Just type softly. Move along, next question.
Q. No matter what I do, the shift key just doesn't seem to work. What's wrong?
A. Have you ever considered that the problem may not be your keyboard, the problem may be YOU? Perhaps God Himself has suspended the operation of these keys to send you a Message that you have strayed from the path of righteousness. Use this as an opportunity to reflect on your life. Before rushing blindly ahead with a lot of shifting, consult the spiritual advisor of your choice for help in dealing with any unresolved issues in your relationship with the Almighty.
I was so tired one afternoon that before lunch I lay down and slept for an hour. It was not easy falling asleep in the middle of the day, but when I did I had one of those incredibly realistic and vivid dreams.
I could have drawn you a map of the place I visited and picked out the photographs of the people I met from any rogue's gallery you showed me. Everything was as bright and real as watching it on a cinema screen.
The building I visited was a rambling old structure that seemed to be owned by the nearby Roman Catholic cathedral, because there were priests and nuns going in and out of one of the offices on the ground floor. The rest of the building was leased to a very eclectic collection of businesses and groups.
You went up the sweeping stone staircase from a lobby that would have done justice to Grand Central station. There was a theater where a school group was rehearsing an elaborate and remarkably risque musical Einstein's Things based on a comic strip. The bits I saw would have got them thrown out of the building if the landlord had seen them.
Along from there was a big room where I was doing a course of some sort. But after it was over it was always interesting to wander in next door, where some sort of advertising agency or publisher had offices. You could just stroll in without anybody asking you who you were or what you were doing. It was that sort of freewheeling set-up.
The various rooms of the business were each given over to people working on different projects. In one of them, a weary woman photographer had covered an entire wall in lurid covers from tabloid magazines and was taking pictures of the resulting montage of images.
In other rooms people were working on equally outlandish but completely different projects.
I stopped in at a waiting room or staff room which was full of comfortable couches and strewn with expensive glossy magazines, most of them still in the unopened plastic mailing envelopes. There were a couple of issues of The New Yorker that I was tempted to put in my bag, since it was obvious they'd never be missed.
One of the magazines carried that comic strip that had inspired the musical they were rehearsing in the big hall.
I sat back on one of the big couches and drowsed for a few minutes. The feel of the room reminded me of the bedroom I'd had as a child. (This is the first time I remember wanting to sleep in a dream.) Then I got up and started tidying up some of the piles of magazines before I left.
For the first time, someone who seemed to be in charge came sweeping into the room trailed by some assistants. He was talking rapidly, finishing by exclaiming that everyone was invited to lunch. Then he glanced at me, assuming that I worked there, and diplomatically remarked that he wouldn't disturb me from what I was doing. I nodded and made some inane remark that someone had to keep the cars running that the clowns would get out of.
They swept off and I had the feeling that maybe I should be on my way instead of making myself at home in a place I had no business in.
I made my way down the big staircase and across the foyer filled with strangers, then down the stone steps at the start of the building. There was a stall selling second-hand books and my eye was drawn to them.
One of the office workers coming down the steps with me saw me glance in his direction and offered me a cigarette from the pack he was opening. I felt foolish having to explain that I was actually trying to read the cover of a book on the stall behind him.
He shrugged and was lost in the crowd of people hurrying off to catch buses or trains. Not being in such a hurry, I stopped to look at some of the books on display. There was a whole section devoted to Naval warfare and I paused to look at one about fleet operations near Iceland in World War II. I noticed to my surprise that the book next to it had been inscribed to Don Tuck, an old friend and bibliographer. I was tempted to buy it but the $35 price sticker was a deterrent.
That sequence, the last before I awoke, was notable because I remember somebody saying on television that he could not actually read in dreams -- that maybe it used a different part of the brain. This was the first time I remember actually reading anything while I was dreaming.
I found myself in bed, feeling refreshed. Obviously I was not just short of sleep, but short of the REM stage of sleep where dreams take place. Catching up on my quota of dreams had made all the difference to how I felt.
Straightaway I sat down at the keyboard for 20 minutes and captured what I remembered of the dream before all those bright and realistic images faded from my consciousness.
==================================================
I don't know about global warming, but local warming is certainly a fact. When I opened the back door this morning, there was a blast of hot air hit me in the face like I was standing at the door of a boiler room.
It stayed above 30 degrees from 11 a.m. until 6 p.m. tonight -- that's 86 degrees in the old Fahrenheit scale.
At midday it hit 37 degrees, which is 98.6 in the old scale, meaning that the temperature was the same inside and outside your body. Not a pleasant feeling at all.
The hens in the backyard had found sheltered spots to escape the sun, and the goose sensibly decided to settle in under the table in the garden. No eggs today but I could understand that. I don't know where the cat ended up but he stayed there for most of the day so it must have been comfortable enough.
After I'd been to my sister's house to help feed the livestock, I suggested we call in at Subway in Moonah. It's air-conditioned and we could get something to eat that wasn't hot.
I'm glad don't live in South Australia. Their record-breaking run of hot weather must be unbearable for the people of Adelaide.
It's a shame I wasn't at work in the office this afternoon. Those old stone walls can withstand the most withering blast of heat for at least a day or two.
Not that it's always comfortable. I spent most of one day this week installing a new multi-function printer (a Brother DCP) and at one stage I was wriggling about on the floor checking the USB connections under the desk -- a real spaghetti dinner under there.
At least I was able to get a good deal at Officeworks. Originally $199, marked down to $129. They only had two left when I was there. There were some el-cheapo ones for about $95 but I tend to be wary of them.
 The queen of the seas. That's how I'll always think of her. The QE2 made her final visit to Tasmania this year and I drove down to the waterfront to take a last look at her.
Queen Elizabeth 2 (QE2) was named after the earlier Cunard liner RMS Queen Elizabeth. She was the flagship of the line until 2004. When she was built in Clydebank, Scotland, in 1969 it looked as though she would be the last of the great transatlantic ocean liners. Who could have guessed that liners would not only survive but would become bigger and bigger until they now look like floating cities. But the QE2 still has the old-world styling of the traditional ocean liner, a little like a wedding cake in appearance. And the discreetly lettered name Cunard on the side of the vessel still has gives one a little thrill. On her many visits to my home town, the ship brought back a welcome whiff of the old days of ocean travel. Two of my uncles travelled on the original Queen Elizabeth and Queen Mary during the war, when their phenomenal speed made them the only troopships that could out-run German submarines and surface raiders. We shall not see her like again. Modern liners look like office buildings turned on their side, and lack the prestige of "the Queens." She will be retired from active service in late 2008, to become a floating hotel in Dubai. It was just a pity that modern security requirements meant that the townspeople of Hobart could not get close to the ship for a last look. I remember on previous visits one could stroll down the dockside and look right into the ship through open doorways and hatches. To get a good photograph of the ship we needed to drive to the top of a hill in South Hobart.
The queen of the seas. That's how I'll always think of her. The QE2 made her final visit to Tasmania this year and I drove down to the waterfront to take a last look at her. Queen Elizabeth 2 (QE2) was named after the earlier Cunard liner RMS Queen Elizabeth. She was the flagship of the line until 2004. When she was built in Clydebank, Scotland, in 1969 it looked as though she would be the last of the great transatlantic ocean liners. Who could have guessed that liners would not only survive but would become bigger and bigger until they now look like floating cities. But the QE2 still has the old-world styling of the traditional ocean liner, a little like a wedding cake in appearance. And the discreetly lettered name Cunard on the side of the vessel still has gives one a little thrill. On her many visits to my home town, the ship brought back a welcome whiff of the old days of ocean travel. Two of my uncles travelled on the original Queen Elizabeth and Queen Mary during the war, when their phenomenal speed made them the only troopships that could out-run German submarines and surface raiders. We shall not see her like again. Modern liners look like office buildings turned on their side, and lack the prestige of "the Queens." She will be retired from active service in late 2008, to become a floating hotel in Dubai. It was just a pity that modern security requirements meant that the townspeople of Hobart could not get close to the ship for a last look. I remember on previous visits one could stroll down the dockside and look right into the ship through open doorways and hatches. To get a good photograph of the ship we needed to drive to the top of a hill in South Hobart.
 When I take Julie's dogs out in the evening, the bushes and the trees are full of sound and movement. The irascible possums glare at us from the branches of the trees, coughing noisily at us when we're at a safe distance.
In this weather there's often a wallaby lurking about in the back yards of the homes. They come down from the hills and feast on the flowers in the gardens. I hear some of them are very partial to roses.
It was odd at first to walk down the street and hear a rustle in the bushes, followed by the unmistakable boing-boing-boing noise as it hopped away. One of them got so used to us going past that it would stand there and wait for us to leave -- as long as we stayed on our own side of the road.
A sad day in Australian publishing this month with the country's oldest magazine folding. When The Bulletin's death was announced at a 10am meeting in Sydney, it ended a tradition that began 128 years ago with the likes of Banjo Paterson, Henry Lawson and Miles Franklin, and survived into the time of Donald Horne,Les Carlyon and Laurie Oakes.
I never knew the magazine in its pre-war heyday. By the time I came along, Sir Frank Packer had taken it over and turned it into a modern news weekly. I doubt the magazine would have been axed if his son Kerry Packer was still alive, but today it's owned by a soulless international media corporation.
One of the galling things is that the magazine's end was announced between editions. The editors didn't even have the opportunity to write a farewell note to the readers.
The same thing happened with Australasian Post, which was scuttled at a moment's notice despite its equally long history.
They say Australians are among the world's biggest consumers of magazines. But sentiment counts for little among the bean-counters of the modern business world, and a long history is no guarantee of survival in the marketplace.
Just today I heard a report that Reed Elsevier are selling off their magazine business, which includes titles ranging from Variety to New Scientist. Apparently the company is unhappy with "the cyclical nature" of magazine publishing....
Hollywood tried to warn us. Films like The Naked Jungle, Them! and Phase IV. Even Joan Collins tried to sound the alarm in Empire of the Ants. 
Yes, the ants are on the march. The last couple of summers they've been an increasing problem and this January has been the driest since they started keeping records around 1882. The result is that they are literally everywhere. Some nights they've been so bad in the kitchen that when we're making dinner one of us stands there holding the plates in mid-air while the other dishes out the food.; then we take off for the dining room and eat before the ants can follow us. I know from watching movies what to do in a case like this. You dig a trench and fill it with kerosine, then when the ants start to cross it you throw in a flaming firebrand. That may be all right out in the jungle but I'm a bit reluctant to try it in a suburban kitchen. My sister hasn't been well this week, but she was up bright and early after the neighbours called her in to consult on a poultry problem. Their hen has only hatched one chick, so Julie offered to help out. She caught two chicks at her place and brought them over to be put under the hen. They plan to tell their children that the hen hatched two more chicks while they were away. Let's hope they all get on together. I know Julie will be on tenterhooks waiting for news of their progress. I had a routine day at the office yesterday but I felt downcast by the time I arrived home. I felt like dark clouds were gathering over my head, plunging me into increasing darkness as time went on. Sitting out in the garden alone before dinner, I came to the conclusion that the obvious explanation was probably correct. Next week is Valentine's Day, which is also my mother's birthday. She would have been 86 this year. It's unfortunate that her birthday falls on Valentine's Day and she died on Grand Final Day. Thus the media never let me forget when either day is approaching. The rest of the year I'm all right, but those two days of the year always get me down.
I'll try it. Anybody else got one of these?
This is from the Zazz website: Full Spectrum Light with Ioniser -- Enhance your overall feeling of wellbeing ($54)
You know the slightly grey-tinged guy in the corner cubicle. You'd probably hardly notice him except for that incessant dry cough and the fact that although he never seems to take a sick day, he's always sick and complaining of chronic migraines!
That man suffers from a bad case of SOS and SAD! (If you're not au fait with your acronyms - Sick Office Syndrome and Seasonal Affective Disorder.) Two sadly prevalent disorders in our oh so modern world caused largely by our artificial internal environments.
Introducing the "innovative" Full Spectrum Light with Ioniser that aims to undo the twin evils of SOS and SAD. The lamp produces glare and flicker-free light that emulates the natural effects of daylight. Normal lighting has an imperceptible but damaging flicker which is known to cause fatigue and stress. The Ionmax lamp however will bathe your world in a much kinder, gentler and natural light.
Its other function is designed to counteract the high amounts of damaging positive ions emitted into the air by our appliances. With an inbuilt air ioniser the lamp will spread negative ions into the air cleaning and refreshing your stale, recycled, coughed and sneezed in, indoor air. And in so doing reduce your sense of fatigue and disenchantment with your boring job... well at least the first part is true.
The combined effects of this device will leave you feeling like you've been frolicking in a meadow soaking up the sun and breathing in pure, freshly oxegenated air with little bluebirds and rabbits gamboling happily around you
OK, I suffered from SAD during last winter -- more than I ever have in the past. So I'm willing to be persuaded. I sent off for one yesterday. I'll let you know how it goes.
 Friday morning I enjoyed a rare hour of peace and quiet. There's a little window between when I finish feeding the chickens in the back yard and when I have to try and get my sister moving. I had breakfast, checked my e-mail and read the comic strips.
Later in the day I went in to the pet-food shop to get meat for my sister's cats and took it over to her house. It was so warm and humid over there that I suggested we go into Subway for coffee and a snack -- their coffee is all right and their air conditioning was definitely a plus in this weather. At dusk we sat out in my garden with a glass of wine and watched the poultry as they paraded by. I don't mind having them there, but I look forward to the day when Julie finishes extending her hen house and takes some or most of them home. In the mail today, received an e-book CD containing all 181 Doc Savage novels in PDF format. We all know that you aren't allowed to post these on the Internet, but they don't seem to stop them being sold on E-Bay. Remind me to tell you about the South Pole Terror sometime. A fascinating interview tonight on Rod Quinn's radio show with David Ansen, the NEWSWEEK movie critic: "On January 26, 1958 (the date is written in pencil), I began keeping a list of all the movies I'd seen, using lined notebook paper that I further divided in half so that I could get upwards of 50 movies per page. I was 12 years old. I've kept up the list my entire life. It now fills 146 handwritten pages—close to 8,000 movies, though the number would be higher had I added all the movies I saw on TV." Rod was especially interested because he keeps a similar list. I used to do the same thing. Of course there was a very practical reason for this in the 1950s and 1960s. There was no Internet, no IMDB, not even any of those movies-on-TV paperbacks that you see in every bookstore. It's hard for anybody under 40 to understand those days. In my young days I loved science-fiction movies but there was no way to have a list of all the SF films that had been made unless you imported an expensive specialist publication from the United States. (There was a copy in the reference section at the State Library but I could never have afforded a copy for my own use.) I used to go through the magazines like TV WEEK and TV TIMES and make a note of any movies on the late-show that I hadn't heard of before. I thought it quite wonderful the publication of "Science Fiction in the Cinema" by John Baxter (London: A. Zwemmer, 1970; New York: A. S. Barnes, 1970) which I was actually able to purchase. It's a very different world today, where (to use a metaphor from the early days of the Internet), we are swimming in a sea of information. Called in at the shop/post-office around the corner from my sister's house to pick up a registered letter for her. While I was there, I bought a comic book and the girl behind the counter looked at it, looked at me and said "Are you one of those people who are interested in old Phantom comic books?" I reeled back in horror. "Is it that obvious?" I said tremulously. "We just got in the end-of-year special issue this morning if you want one." "Oh. Yes, I'll take one while I'm here." Selling an average 30,000 copies an issue, The Phantom remains this country's favourite comic book. There is simply nobody else who comes close to the wide readership that the Frew Publications title has. That's close to a million copies a year in Australia. Total Frew sales since 1948 are estimated at a breath-taking 35 million copies.
Hell. That's what it was like this morning.
I thought I was having a hypoglycemic attack,sweating and feeling like I was going to pass out. The expected cold change didn't come in and as it got closer to midday it just got hotter and hotter.
For about three hours it stayed up around 30 degrees (that's around 86 in the old Fahrenheit scale) and I think the humidity was about 55%.
One of Julie's friends Merv had come by to collect some rubbish that we'd cleared out of the driveway yesterday and I tried to help but I had to keep retreating inside to sit down and drink iced soda water. I just couldn't cope with it.
Thankfully the cold change did finally move in late in the afternoon and the temperature started to drop after 3 o'clock.
Fire crews and helicopters were out fighting brush fires that had sprung up during the hot and windy afternoon. More news here: http://www.fire.tas.gov.au/mysite/Show?pageId=colPublicNews
Roll on the autumn is all I can say.
Meanwhile we attended the Irish Association's usual monthly quiz night at the New Sydney Hotel. We had a team of five, with a wide span of general knowledge. In spite of that, we had a couple of disastrous rounds in the middle of the night and I feared the worst.
We chose the "television" round to joker for bonus points, but it was a debacle. All the questions were about obscure details from sitcoms that I never watched. I thought we'd sustained a mortal wound when we only scored two out of a possible eleven points, but when the scores went up I found that was not unusual. One table even scored zero.
The other categories - People & Places, Literature, Movies, Ireland, Music, Sport and History - were kinder to us and in the end we won in the Silver category. Of course it helped that most of the other teams went for Gold and there was actually only one other team up against us.
The prize is just a few vouches for free drinks, but at least we could share those around the team. One of the other tables won a movie ticket -- how do you share that between six people?
From the news desk -- a sign of the times. The new Federal Government says all schools will be able to apply for help to assess their security needs.
The Government will spend $20 million on the program, which will see ASIO and the AFP (Australian Federal Police) assess the security risk at applicable schools.
Acting Prime Minister Julia Gillard says while the scheme will specifically target some schools, all are welcome to apply.
"It would be of no surprise to people for example that many Jewish schools have had cause for concern about security arrangements," she said. "The program is there to assist schools who feel themselves to be at risk and who are at risk."
Times have certainly changed since my school days. The only time you saw the police outside my old school was when they were directing traffic at the pedestrian crossing.
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